Date: Thu, 19 Mar 2009 14:59:48 -0700 (PDT) From: John Venn Subject: Mondays Child Disclaimer: These stories contain scenes of a sexual nature between men and boys. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, or you find it morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!! The stories are purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish! Other stories of mine may be found under 'Prolific Authors' at Nifty. Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk ******************************************************* Monday's Child A Collection of Short Stories by Alexander based on Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child had far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for his living, And the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay. (Traditional Victorian English Nursery Rhyme) 'MONDAY'S CHILD IS FAIR OF FACE' David had had trouble all the fourteen years of his young life. The trouble was that even as a baby he was far too good looking for his own good. Blond-haired, blue-eyed and chubby; every mother's dream. By the time he'd started school he'd lost his baby chubbiness, but not his mop of frizzy unmanageable hair. He sauntered through junior school and the first couple of years of secondary school, his looks guaranteeing he would never have any problems with his teachers. Petty misbehaviour was over-looked, poor worked was ignored and he had plenty of friends. Whenever he was caught out in any minor misdemeanour, a smile and flash of his blue eyes always worked. His real problems started when he was 13. Puberty hit him suddenly like a ton of bricks. He grew taller, more muscular, and a damn sight more handsome if that were possible. And at last he started to grow hair where he most desired it. The girls found him irresistible, but he wasn't ready for them yet and found them rather a nuisance on the whole. He was happy enough with the boys he'd made friends with, and they were more than happy to be seen in his company. It was at the age of 13 that his parents started to allowed him enough freedom to wander round town by himself, which is where his problems started. He was in one of the public toilets relieving a full bladder when he became uncomfortably aware he was being started at. This was nothing unusual and he was well-used to it of course, but this was the first time it'd happened in a toilet, and so blatantly. The shock made him turn and stare back at the man, leaving his soft three inch dick hanging out of his trousers, held lightly between his finger and thumb. The man whispered hoarsely that he and 'it' were very nice, very nice indeed. Stuffing his dick back in his trousers in a panic, he ran for his life. Five minutes later when he felt safe, he stopped and thought about what the man had said. The comment on his looks he disregarded as usual, but the one about his dick? He'd never given that a seconds thought in all his years although he was just as proud of that part of his body as he was of everything else. He examined it in bed that night, and unselfconsciously agreed that it was indeed good looking. It looked even better when it was hard, as it had been a lot the past few months. In his innocence he told one of his best mates the story and was only a bit surprised when his friend asked if they could compare to see what was so special about David's. Within five minutes, they knew there was no difference at all, even when they were hard. Just to check it out, they even felt the same. When they orgasmed two minutes later, they both agreed that that was amazing, and from that time on, got to practice and compare almost every day. David soon learned to pick up the signals from other men and boys which meant they were interested in sharing orgasms. He liked the feelings he got, and never went short of people to help him out. Now, in his fourteenth year, he had a problem. He'd enjoyed some fantastic times with most of the boys of his age at school, and a good many men in the toilets. Unfortunately he also had built up a reputation for himself, which cost him almost all his old friends. The few he had managed to hang on to were only after one thing, and although he was always ready to provide it, he felt used, and not to say abused. The taunts he accepted unwillingly and the fights he was getting into more and more frequently were getting worse. The only consolation was that he learned he could earn money in the public toilets, and did so in large amounts. Once again, his good looks and willing participation paid well. It only took a little while to make many new friends at school, although it was costing him almost every penny he earned in little gifts and presents, or the use of his body for a few minutes. The only thing he missed were friends who didn't want his body. Still, he thought, as he was being sucked off by yet another man in the toilets, I'll always have friends like this and there'll be plenty of time to get some proper friends once I've earned just a little more money. 'TUESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF GRACE' Tuesday was confession day. For the past four years, ever since he was eight years old, he'd been to confession. To begin with Michael had treated the event as a routine to be endured; he never had anything serious to confess and it seemed to be a waste of time. Two years ago, things changed for him though. He joined the choir and spent a very happy few hours each week in rehearsal, messing about with the other choristers and having a pretty good time, even though he had to endure the singing which he didn't like all that much. The game of indoor football was always fun, especially when Father Andy joined in. He was a new, young member of the clergy and seemed to take an active part in all the youth activities, but especially the choir and the sporting things the parish organised. It all started some weeks ago when Michael was in confession and he told the Priest about some strange thoughts he's been having lately, mostly to do with 'down below'. It kept getting hard when he was playing football, or in the choir stalls. It happened especially when he looked at certain boys, or they looked at him. Father Andy always seemed interested in his confessions when he talked about these feelings, and because he liked Father Andy, Michael sometimes invented stuff to keep him talking. Not that he lied, of course, just wishful thinking and things he thought the priest would like to hear. On the fourth time he'd confessed about his thoughts, Father Andy had said that perhaps Michael aught to think about having a private meeting with him so's they could talk about them properly. Michael thought this was a good idea and they agreed to meet after choir rehearsal. It must've been a good idea, Michael thought, because he got hard again when he was running home. And the other thing was that it had to be a secret between them because it was done in the confessional. The first time he went to see Father Andy, he was just a little bit embarrassed because he was sat in front of him and they could see each other as they talked. After a while, though, he got used to it and didn't mind any more. He even didn't mind when he got hard again whilst they were talking, after all Father Andy had said that it happened to everybody, even grown men sometimes. This surprised Michael, but when he saw Father Andy's trousers, he knew it was true because he could see the lump. The next time he went for his chat, Father Andy asked him if he ever touched it when it was hard. Michael said that he had once or twice by accident, but not very much. Then Andy said that perhaps it would be a good idea if he did, because sometimes it would make it go down. It had to be done in secret though, because it was very private. Michael did as he was told, and he found that not only did it make it go down, but he felt really, really good as well. Sometimes he even made it hard deliberately so's he could play with it again and get the good feeling. When he told Andy this (He'd said not to call him 'Father' when they were alone, but that was another little secret), he said perhaps he aught to check that he's doing it right, and that he would show him if he wanted. Michael said he didn't mind as there was only the two of them there. To make sure they were alone, Andy was even good enough to go and lock the door so's nobody would come in and disturb them. When Andy held his hard peter between his fingers, he sort of rubbed it up and down for a bit. Michael was surprised that it seemed to get bigger at first, but then he had a wonderful, funny feeling and shook all over. Once that had happened, it went down nearly straight away. He was a bit sad when it did that, but he knew now that he could get the same feeling again and again, almost whenever he wanted so he didn't mind. At the next meeting, Andy showed him again what to do, just in case he'd forgotten. Michael hadn't forgotten though because he'd done it every day, sometimes even twice. When Michael asked if grown men did it as well, Andy sort of smiled a bit and said that some men do, but not all of them. Then Michael asked if Andy did it, and he smiled some more and said that was one of those questions you should never ask anybody. Michael felt a bit sad when he said this, because he wanted to see if Andy did it the same as him. Instead of answering him, Andy asked if some wet stuff ever came out of the end of his peter when he rubbed it. Now this was strange because Michael had felt sort of wet and sticky sometimes, especially if he shook and shivered when he rubbed it a lot, but he'd forgotten about asking Andy about it. Andy said that this was normal as well, and as he got older, more and more stuff would come out. He explained a bit about that's how babies are made, but it was a bit complicated and Michael couldn't remember it all. When they next met, and Andy was rubbing Michael's peter to see if any stuff came out, Michael asked if he could see some of the stuff. Andy said that the only way he could see any was if he made some for him, and that if he did show him, it would have to be a big, big secret between them. Michael said OK to this because he really wanted to see it. They made sure the door was locked again, and Andy said that he'd have to take his trousers off to show him properly. This was OK because Michael had taken his down every time he came to see Andy now, and it was only fair in a way. When he took them off, Michael got a real big surprise. His peter was really big, and hard as well. It was just the same as Michael's in a way, but a lot, lot bigger. And he had hair all round it, lots of that as well. Andy told him that everyone got hair down there when they got older, it was a part of growing up he said. Michael asked if he could feel it. That was sort of fair too because Andy had felt his lots of times. Andy said he could, and when Michael put his hands on his peter, played with it a bit and felt all through the hair and even underneath where the sack-things are, Andy made a funny noise and said he was doing a good job. Michael saw some of the wet sticky stuff on the end of Andy's peter, it seemed to be leaking out of it. When Michael asked if that was the stuff that made him wet and sticky, Andy said it was, but if rub it harder and for a long time, then some other stuff comes out which is even stickier. Michael was a bit fed up when Andy told him that he probably wasn't big enough to make it yet, but he felt better when Andy said he could rub his peter until the stuff came out if he wanted so's he could have a look at it. This was a good idea, and Michael just managed to get his whole hand round Andy's peter and rubbed it and rubbed it. Soon it got a bit bigger just like his did, but then Andy sort of shouted out a bit and white stuff came shooting out of the end. It made Michael jump at first because it happened so quick, but it was fun watching it shoot all over the place. He even got a bit on his hand, which he licked off. It taste sort of salty and creamy, not bad at all. Shooting the stuff out must be hard work, Michael thought, because once he'd stopped shooting it out, he fell on the chair, breathing ever so hard. When Andy said it wasn't hard work, it was just so exciting that it made you feel tired all over for a minute or two. So that was good as well then; he was pleased he'd made Andy happy and excited, that was only fair because he'd told him how to make himself feel happy. When Andy asked at their next get-together if Michael liked the taste of the white stuff, Michael said he did. And when he asked if he wanted to make some more, Michael said he did, but could Andy rub his peter at the same time to make him feel good as well. He agreed to this, and they took their trousers off again. This time, Andy got Michael to sit on his knee so's they could do it together, and that was much better for them both. When Michael got the funny feeling, Andy stopped for a minute, but when his peter got hard again, he did it some more. Then Andy shot his stuff out again, and this time it went all up Michael's belly. That was OK though, because Michael just wiped it all up and put it in his mouth. Michael was a bit sad because he guessed that there wasn't much more Andy could tell him or show him about his funny feelings, but he got more cheerful when Andy told him that there was another, very special way, that Michael could have some more of the white stuff to eat if he wanted. He got very excited at this, and couldn't wait until their next meeting. When he got to Andy's house the next Tuesday, they seemed to spend a lot of time talking at first and so Michael had to ask him when he could taste some more of his stuff made 'in the special way'. Andy asked him if he really wanted to know about this, and Michael nodded his head, saying, 'yes, yes, please.' Once they'd taken their clothes off, Andy got Michael to kneel in front of him and he told him to gently put his peter in his mouth. Michael thought this might be dirty at first, but once he'd cleaned it with his tongue, it didn't taste of anything. Then Andy got Michael to rub his peter with his hand, and sort of suck at the same time with his mouth. The sucking bit made sense to Michael, cause if he didn't, then all the white stuff would leak from his mouth. Lots and lots of stuff came out of Andy's peter when he shot it out, but Michael was ready for it, and managed to swallow nearly all of it, which he thought was neat. Andy didn't say anything about coming the next week, but Michael went anyway. When they got to the room, he asked if he could taste some more of his stuff and Andy said he could. He even said that the more of it he ate, the better it would be. Michael didn't quite understand this, but did it anyway. On his way home, he felt really, really happy. His priest, Father Andy, had taught him a lot the past few weeks, and he'd said that there was lots more he could teach him, but it had to be a secret between them. Michael guessed that this was because he was now full of grace and he was somebody special, and if that was all it took, then he wanted to be filled every week. 'WEDNESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF WOE' Tarek was pissed off - seriously pissed off. It was half past six in the morning on a school day and he'd had another sleepless night. And the reason was the same as always. A month ago, he'd decided to admit to himself that he was homosexual. 'Gay' wasn't a word he'd think of using; there wasn't anything at all `gay' or good about the way he felt. Ever since he was aware of what sex was he knew he was different to other boys, different in ways which he knew weren't right. To begin with, he'd explored himself and other boys as all kids do, and enjoyed it. As he grew up he realised that his religion, his culture and his family refused to admit even the existence of such a thing as homosexuality, let alone understand it. From about the age of eleven he'd fought to hide his feelings, struggled not to look at boys in any way other than 'normal'. He'd lost the battle even before it began. Sly glances at boys changing for sports, envious stares at boys swimming in tight trunks, gut-wrenching jealousy of those few boys he knew who accepted their difference from the norm. The final straw had been two weeks ago when he'd arrived home with one of his few friends after a football game at school. As it was so close to home time, neither had bothered to change out of their kit. Tarek, knowing how his family felt about displays of naked flesh had changed into jeans and T-shirt as Jay had had a Coke. They had sat talking in the living room for an hour or so, Tarek managing mostly to keep his eyes away from the very obvious bulge in Jay's shorts. His loose jeans he knew from experience would hide his own erection, even as big as it was. His father, when he arrived home from work, didn't fail to notice Jay's bulge, or the exposed flesh of his legs. No sooner had Jay left when he told Tarek exactly what he thought, and in no uncertain terms. "That boy isn't decent, he isn't a nice boy. What sort of boy is he? All that naked skin and those disgusting clothes. No decent boy would be seen like that, and his family should be ashamed of him. You are not to see him again." There was a lot more too, but Tarek had stopped listening, he'd heard it all before. This time though, he felt different. He was angry. Angry with his father, angry with the world he represented, and most of all angry with himself for not being able to do anything about any of it. As soon as he decently could, he took himself upstairs to his room and lay on his bed, calmer but still pissed off. Checking his bedroom door was locked he unfastened his belt, slipped his zip down and pushed his hand under the elastic of his underpants. Holding his slowly erecting penis, his mind was a confused mish-mash of conflicting thoughts. Why did he feel so guilty at doing something he enjoyed and made him feel so good, and he was sure was so natural? Hell, even with the door closed and locked, he was too embarrassed to take his own clothes off and take pleasure in his own body. Forcing himself to try and overcome his irrational feelings for once, he lifted his hips up and pushed his jeans and pants down to his ankles. 'At least I can pull them up quick if I hear anyone coming,' he justified to himself. He peered guiltily down at his erection, all six magnificent inches of it. Slowly it wilted as he stared at it, soon burying itself in its nest of newly-grown black curly hair. Closing his eyes to avoid seeing it, he gently massage it back to life, thinking of Jay in his virginal white shorts. The erotic thoughts and slowly increasing speed of his hand soon had him on the edge. Gripping his testicles in one hand, and his prick in the other, he brought himself to a rapid, but non-the-less very satisfying orgasm as an image of Jay, sans shorts this time, flashed through his mind. Reaching over for the box of Kleenex, he carefully cleaned himself up and fastidiously wrapped the soiled paper in another tissue and stuffed it in his pocket to be disposed of in a litter bin the next time he left the house. As much as he'd enjoyed his solitary orgasm, he felt more comfortable as he dressed himself and sat at his desk to start his homework. He was sure his mother and father knew what he'd done alone in the sanctity of his room when he joined them for dinner; the atmosphere was definitely strained. Thankfully, in one way at least, he was relieved when his father started on about Jay again. Tarek remained silent and morose as he listened to another tirade about Jay's immorality. When Tarek pointed out mildly that it'd be impossible to avoid Jay completely at school as they were in the same class, his father became really angry and banished him to his room. It was one of the most difficult conversations he'd ever had the following day when he met Jay. At first Tarek had decided simply not to talk to Jay very much and slowly let their friendship wither and die, but when he saw him in the playground before school, he knew he couldn't do that. The very least he could do was to tell him why. And if he told him why they couldn't be friends, then as far as he was concerned he might just as well become a hermit. They met in the library at lunch-time, and briefly Tarek explained the situation, painfully and almost tearfully. "I don't understand," Jay replied when he'd finished. "What's his problem? You and me are the same religion and my parents aren't like that." Tarek didn't understand either and edged even closer to tears as he realised he couldn't explain. They spent what remained of their lunch-break trying to understand Tarek's father's logic, but didn't get very far.. They did however talk about a lot of other things in the interim, everything that is except the one thing Tarek wanted to talk about, his feelings towards Jay. "Tell you what," Jay said as the bell for afternoon school sounded, "Come to my house after school and we'll talk some more. If your dad asks why you're late, tell him you were with me at my house telling me why we couldn't be friends. And if he tries to have a go at you about that, ask him to ring my father and ask him why w can't be friends." This sounded OK to Tarek and he felt a lot better as they went to class. Jay even putting a friendly arm on Tarek's shoulder, which did wonders for his feelings, and a great deal more for his dick. Straight after school they went to Jay's house and hit his bedroom. It was the first time Tarek had been in anyone's bedroom other than his own of course and he stared around, taking note of every little thing to store in his memory, knowing he'd never get another chance. "So, tell me more," Jay said. "Keep talking, I'm gonna get changed out of these damn school things." Tarek watched, stunned into silence as Jay undressed, casually dropping his clothes where he stood, eventually standing naked except for his underpants and looking at Tarek. "Well? Go on then, talk to me," he said, completely unabashed by his nudity.. Tarek managed to stammer out a few sentences, completely unable to takes his eyes off Jay, and his groin in particular. Jay sensing something was disturbing Tarek looked at back at him as he searched for some clean shorts to put on. The first thing that struck him was his face. Complete and utter shock, but also mixed up with something else he wasn't sure of. His mind did a somersault as he then noticed huge tent in Tarek's trousers. Now there was a thought! Tarek's family was more prudish than he thought if Tarek got a hard-on just by seeing him in his pants. Tarek really did have a problem, but one he thought he could sort out for him. "Stand up a minute," Jay said taking a step towards him. "I ... err ... can't," Tarek stammered out, acutely aware that Jay would see his erection if he so much as moved an inch. "Bollocks!" Jay said, choosing a word he knew would shake Tarek out of his obvious embarrassment. "Just 'cause you've a boner? Don't be stupid. I get twenty a day! Stand up." Reluctantly Tarek got to his feet, more embarrassed than ever, acutely aware the cause of it was in full view of Jay. "Right." said Jay. "We're gonna play a game. Take your jacket and tie off." Tarek did as he was told and stood in front of Jay, curious as to what sort of game they could play in this situation. "Know a game called 'Nervous'?" Jay asked. Tarek shook his head. "Right. This's how it goes. I put a finger on your body somewhere and we count to ten. I can move my finger where I like, but I gotta stop when you say 'nervous' or we get to ten. Understand?" "Think so," Tarek said suddenly afraid of where this might lead. "Good. If you say 'nervous' before we get to ten, then we add the time left to your time when you do me. Fair?" "Guess so." Tarek replied, nervous even before the game started "Great. I'll start." Jay said, putting both his hands on Tarek's shoulders. "Start counting." Tarek started. "One. ... Two. ... Three ...." Jay put his index finger on Tarek's forehead and drew a couple of small circles, then ran his finger down his cheek towards his lips. "Ten." said Tarek quietly, wishing he'd counted more slowly. "Your turn," Jay laughed. "Come on, it's good fun, you'll see." Tarek did exactly the same thing as Jay, afraid to go any further. "Right. You get the idea. Now the next thing is that we must start from where the other one stops. You stopped here." He put his finger on Tarek's lips. "So I start here." The game progressed until Tarek was completely relaxed and enjoying it. It was the first time he felt he was able to touch anyone else in almost any place he wanted and not feel guilty about it. After five minutes, Jay said that Tarek aught to take his shirt off as it wasn't quite fair. He sensed that this was a giant step forwards in what was a surprisingly erotic game, and quickly threw it off. "That's better!" Jay grinned. "Now we're almost equal." The game continued, their touches getting closer and closer to where they both knew it would end. Tarek took a sharp breath in as Jay's finger reached the top of his trousers. "Nervous!" he suddenly said, wishing instantly that he'd kept his mouth shut. Jay grinned and removed his finger. "Three seconds added on." Tarek started from just above Jay's underpants, and not quite having the nerve to go down the front of them and over the now immense bulge, diverted his finger to the side and went along the outside of his leg. As he reached the hem of the leg, Jay giggled and said, "Nervous. That tickles!" The game re-started with Tarek's finger only a few inches from Jay's groin, and once again, not having the nerve, tracer a route back up towards Jay's navel, stopping just below his belly-button. Jay drew a few circles first, Tarek watching incredulously as the finger gave him the most incredible feelings ever. This time, he managed not to say anything, making sure by biting his lip almost painfully. On the count of ten, Jay's finger stopped just inside the top of Tarek's trousers. "No going backwards," he whispered. "New rule." Tarek was so aroused by now that there was no way he would have gone back anyway. All he wanted was to hear that Jay was willing to go further. He ran his finger round the outline of Jay's cock, feeling it throb expectantly as he did so. "Trousers?" Jay whispered before he started his turn. Tarek undid the clasp and let them fall to the floor. "Great," Jay said, and started to play his fingers, all of them, along Tarek's now leaking cock. There was no next move, or at least, not in this particular game. When Tarek's turn had finished, Jay pushed Tarek back onto his bed and lay down alongside him, their joint erections painfully obvious, even restrained as they were. Without saying a word he slid a hand under the waistband of Tarek's pants and grasped his red hot cock gently. "Nervous?" he whispered. Tarek was way beyond speaking, and simply shook his head. "That's good, he said quietly as he placed Tarek's hand on top of his own boner. "That game's over. Let's play another one" Two minutes later and their underwear joined the rest of their clothes on the floor somewhere as the two boys lost themselves in each other, Tarek almost fainting with the astonishing sensations he was receiving from his best friend. Jay too was over the moon. For months he'd dreamed of something like this, but until today hadn't a clue how to go about it. Tarek wasn't the first boy he'd done things with, but he was certainly the one he'd fancied the most.. It took them all of thirty seconds for them both to cum, massively, painfully and noisily. But happily. Tarek automatically started to search for some paper tissues, or to find his clothes, but he was stopped by a gentle hand on his chest. "Slow down. Rest a bit," Jay whispered. "I like it like this, let's just lay here together for a bit." Tarek did as he was asked and sighed as Jay held him lightly in his arms. "Was that OK?" Jay asked quietly in Tarek's ear. "I thought it was brilliant." "Yeah," Tarek answered, still in a bit of a stupor. "It was good." Once they'd gathered their thoughts together, Jay reached over Tarek, pulled him closer and looked him in the eyes. "It's only a game," he smiled happily, "Nobody hurt, no harm done. It's only a game. Good one though, isn't it!" Tarek laughed a little, realised that what Jay said was exactly right, and hugged him. "Thanks," he said, "Thanks a lot. You'll never know how much this meant to me." "Bollocks!" Jay laughed, "It's only a game!" "Yeah. But I'm not nervous any more. Can we play it again sometime? Soon?" The looked at each other and grinned, both knowing the answer. "Damn!" Tarek shouted as he saw the time. "Gotta go!" He searched for his clothes and dressed hurriedly. Just before he rushed home, he looked at Jay, walked over to him and once more whispered his thanks.. He almost kissed him, but thought better of it and gave him a big hug instead. Fortunately he got home before his dad and had just enough time to change out of his school clothes. Coming downstairs he was more relaxed and cheerful than he had been for weeks and it showed. The evening meal was half-way over when his father asked, "Seen that boy yet?" "Yes," Tarek said simply. "And?" Tarek put his knife and fork down and looked at his father. "We're still friends and I'm seeing him tomorrow for a game of football. If you don't like it, then could you telephone him and explain to him why we can't be friends?" His father said nothing. He looked at Tarek, got up from the table and left the room. Tarek looked at his mother. She continued eating slowly and said nothing but smiled at her son gently, nodding her head slightly. Her boy was growing up. >From that time onwards, whenever Tarek entered a room his father was in, he would wordlessly get up and leave, not even giving him a glance. Each night Tarek called at Jay's house on the way home from school, and went to bed happy that Jay and he were now the best of friends in every important way. He was pissed off with his father though, whom he still loved, almost as much as Jay. Despite his best efforts he couldn't find a way of getting him to talk to him again. He woke up early every morning, still upset, but determined to find a way out of the situation. After all, he reasoned, his father must be as full of woe as he was. `THURSDAY'S CHILD HAS FAR TO GO' Eleven-year-old Santos had just changed schools. He'd left his junior school where he was one of the oldest boys, and started his secondary school where he was one of the youngest. It was hard going from being one of the top dogs to the lowest form of school-boy life, a newbie. As if that wasn't painful enough, he also had to cope with his older brother, who at the age of 13, was already going to the same school. They'd always been good friends as well as brothers and always did things together, not always what their parents would have wished, then what young boys do? But now he'd just told him to stay away from him when they were at school, and not to pester him. They'd had a row about this on the way and at first Santos was pissed of with him; he'd been hoping for a bit of support and help on his first few days, but once Dimitri had told him that it just wasn't cool to be seen messing about with your kid brother, especially since he was a new boy as well, but that they were still good buddies, then it got a bit better. In fact it worked out OK, and after a couple of weeks he wondered what all the fuss had been about. Another reason that Dimitri didn't want Santos hanging around with him came to light after the first month. One Thursday morning Dimitri had forgotten to pick a note up from home about a school trip or something, and Santos had been told to give it to him at school. He'd tried to tell his mum that he'd been told to stay away from his brother at school, but she just laughed, ruffled his hair and told him not to be so silly. Santos went looking for Dimitri at dinner time to give him the note. When he asked Dimitri's friends where he was, all he got were some funny looks and unfriendly 'piss off' comments. It wasn't until the third or fourth time of asking that someone said to try the music rooms. He thought they were making fun of him again at first as he wasn't in the slightest bit interested in music, but as he'd not got a clue as to where else he could be, he shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the music block. Strictly speaking it was out of bounds at break times, but as it was never locked, Santos knew that he may well be in there, he certainly wasn't anywhere else he could see. He wasn't there of course, and had decided to give up trying to find him. Passing a toilet, he thought he'd take advantage of it and pushed the door open. Before he could open it fully, he heard boys voices inside, and stopped, deciding what to do. They shouldn't have been there, and neither should he for that matter. That, together with the fact that they were certainly older boys, made him nervous and he'd just about made his mind up to leave as quietly as he could when he recognised a voice. "Come on, hurry up. We ain't got much longer. The afternoon bell will go soon, I've done you so you gotta do me. Quick." It was Dimitri. "Ok, Ok," a second voice said, "Push your trousers down so's I can get at it." Santos was dumbstruck. He'd more than half an idea what they were doing, and was shocked. Closing the door as quietly as he could, he crept out of the building, his mind a turmoil. He and his brother had shared a bedroom all their lives, and apart from the occasional playful grope, they'd never taken much notice of each other's bits. He knew that they had bigger dicks than most boys their age, and they even had hair before the other boys did; that much they'd learned from casual observation. Dimitri had once told him that was because their mum and dad were Greek, and Greeks always had bigger dicks and balls, and they got hair before anyone else did. They'd even compared erections sometimes, Dimitri being about an inch or so bigger that Santos. But they'd never touched each other when they were hard, and certainly nothing like what Dimitri was doing now. At first Santos was going to talk to Dimitri about it when they were in bed later that night, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure if Dimitri would get angry or not at his having found out his secret, and even then not knowing if he would tell him what he was doing, and who with. Instead he watched his brother get undressed with an interest he hadn't shown before. His dick and balls didn't look any different to what they normally did, and Santos wondered who it was who'd last held them and jerked him off. Santos slid his hand under the covers and cradled his boner, rubbing it gently as he thought of it. It was a nice thought. Dimitri smiled across at his brother, guessing what he was doing and his dick hardened up just slightly as he walked across to his bed. Within five minutes he was doing the same thing himself, thinking. It took a week for Santos to satisfy his curiosity. There were two other boys Dimitri disappeared into the toilets with, both of whom he knew slightly.. One was Max, a boy in the same class as his brother and the other was John, a neighbour of theirs. Max was a bit smaller than Dimitri with black curly hair and was always smiling. John was a year younger than Dimitri, but big for his age, fair haired and freckly. He always wore tight trousers as well, which made his dick and balls stand out. They didn't always go to the toilets together, but Santos noticed that at least two of them went in there everyday. He got a hardon thinking about it, and wished he could join in with them. Another week went by with Santos getting more and more frustrated. It was hard going to bed at night, watching his brother and knowing what he was doing, but unable to talk about it. He'd even let Dimitri see him with a boner a couple of times, but he hadn't said anything. In the end he'd had to go to the bathroom to jerk off. He couldn't quite cum yet, but the feelings were there and he loved doing it; dreaming of his brother, or Max, or John, made his orgasms more intense than they'd ever been. It was whilst he was wanking himself off one evening when an idea came to him. He realised that the toilets were at the back of the building, and if he stood under the open window, he could probably hear what was going on, and depending on what he heard, he would think of the next thing to do. He was in luck. The following day he stood under the window and heard Dimitri and Max's voices in the toilet. "Christ, I need this," Dimitri said as they came through the door, "I've had a wicked boner all morning." "Me too," Max replied. "Let's both get undressed together." "Yeah, but not all the way though, just our trousers and pants. Remember what happened last time?" "Oh, yeah!" Max giggled. "OK then, let's get 'em off." Santos listened intently, awestruck by their incredible conversation, fingering his now solidly erect boner through his pockets. Finally he couldn't stand it any more and without a moment's hesitation ran round the building and in through the main door. Slowing down and treading as softly as he could, he pushed open the toilet door and crept in. He was hidden from their view by the modesty wall just inside the door, but there was no need for him to see what was happening, the excited short gasps told him exactly what he need to know. "Wanna suck it?" he heard Max say. "Yeah, but not now. Let's do that after school at your house. Just make me cum now, I'm gonna burst if I don't." The room went quiet as the two boys pleasured each other; the only sounds being the moans of delight as they approached their joint orgasms. "Fuck it! Here it comes!" Dimitri gasped out a few short seconds later. "Me too, don't stop for God's sake," Max replied, "Aaaagh! Aaaagh!" he suddenly groaned. "Christ!" Dimitri responded, "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh." Santos' original plan was to 'accidentally' walk in on them and catch them at it, but as he heard their orgasmic grunts and groans, a better idea occurred to him. Holding on to his now red-hot cock, he crept out as quietly as he came in and rushed to find another toilet. He jerked himself off frenziedly and passionately as he thought of the scene just played out a few metres away from where he was. His young body trembled and shook violently as he pictured his brother and his friend enjoying themselves, and what was even better, imagined him mixed up with them. As he calmed down from the intensity of an extremely hard dry cum, he put a plan together, even more determined to make himself part of their little gang. Dimitri was over an hour late back from school that night and when asked where he'd been, told his mother that he'd stayed at school to do his homework for a change. She smiled at him, pleased that he was at last making an effort with his schoolwork. Santos said nothing to disillusion her. Getting his timing right, Santos undressed with his brother that night, and before he had chance to get into bed, asked him, "When's the last blow job you had?" Dimitri stopped, mid-stride, and looked at his brother. "What?" he said not believing what he'd just heard. "Last blow job. When'd you have it." Santos said, relieved to see his brother was just shocked at the directness of the question and not angry. Dimitri looked at his kid brother, too worried about what he appeared to know to be angry. He also saw he had a boner. A big one and it was pointing straight at him. Dimitri's cock hardened ever so slightly. "What have you heard?" Dimitri said, trying not to sound as nervous as he was. "Nothing," Santos said, knowing now that he'd got him. "But I know what you've been doing with Max. And John." Dimitri sat down on his bed with a thump. His dick softened instantly. "How'd you know? I mean what do you think we've been doing?" he said, confused and looking like a frightened rabbit caught in car headlights. "I know why you were late home tonight and where you were." Santos took pains to make himself sound as non-threatening as he could and spoke softly, even smiling at his brother. "And what you were doing!" he added with a giggle. Dimitri blushed deeply and didn't say anything. "Would half-past four be about right?" Santos said. "With Max?" "How'd you know?" Santos told him the story, starting with the note and ending when he heard Max and his brother talking- among other things - in the toilets. "You were there?" Dimitri stammered out, "When we were, .........." "Yeah." Santos laughed, "Good wasn't it!" "Shit!" Dimitri whispered to himself. Santos began to feel sorry for his brother who was obviously now very worried. "Don't panic," he said, "I'm not gonna tell anybody, honestly. I think it's cool." Dimitri looked up into Santos' face and decided he was being serious. Santos, for his part moved across and sat on the bed alongside him. "I mean it," he whispered, resting a hand on his brother's naked thigh. "I think it's OK. But why didn't you tell me before? And why don't you do it with me?" he added, smiling, hitting him lightly on the arm and tightening his grip on his thigh. "It'd be alright you know." They looked at each other in a new light. Dimitri was not only relieved that his secret was safe, but he appeared to have a new partner as well as a new brother! And Santos, for his part, was glad all the secretiveness was over and he too could look forward to a new and more exciting relationship. "Tell you what," Santos whispered, "Why don't we do something about this?" He nodded down to his throbbing erection, wrapping a hand round it to make a point. "Please?" he added. Grinning, Dimitri pulled Santos down onto the bed and did as he was asked, his young brother smiling happily and transferring his grip to his big brothers rapidly rising erection. "That's nice!" they said together. "And we've got all night!" Santos sighed.. "More than that little bro.," Dimitri whispered in his ear, "We've got the rest of our lives to go yet!" 'FRIDAY'S CHILD IS LOVING AND GIVING' At 16 years of age, Jason was the best tennis coach the school ever had, even better than any of the teachers. He wasn't that good in the inter-school tennis matches, not even making the team unless they were desperate, but he had an amazing talent for coaching the younger boys, and they did win their tournaments which was all that mattered. The boys he coached loved their sport, even turning up on cold wet nights for practice in the gymnasium. The teachers put the youngsters enthusiasm down to the closeness in age of the boys, and didn't question it any further. Jason, and his boys, knew better however. It'd started over a year ago when despite his mediocrity, Jason turned up every Friday for training. He knew he wasn't all that good, and no matter how much he practiced he wasn't going to improve. It wasn't really the tennis he was interested in: the opportunity to see the younger boys changing was simply too much to resist; he simply loved watching them dress and undress, few taking any great pains to hide their tackle when they did so. Jason, being the oldest amongst them took it upon himself to be the first in and last out of the changing rooms to make sure things 'went OK' as he explained to the teachers, who were duly grateful. It wasn't long before one or two boys realised what Jason was up to and rather than spoil his fun and run the risk of having the teachers back in charge, actively encouraged him. To begin with Jason didn't know what was going on, but when one boy in particular seemed to delight in showing himself off more than was necessary and give him a knowing smile at the same time, it began to dawn on him. Reluctantly Jason backed off for a week or two, making sure he was well out of the way as much as he could. It was also noticeable that the boys performance dropped off for those two weeks and despite trying his best, Jason just couldn't seem to get them back on form. On the third week, Jason took his main tormentor on one side before he got changed and asked him what the problem was with their tennis. "You don't seem to care about us as much anymore," he said. "You're never there when we get changed, or afterwards either." "But what difference does that make?" Jason asked. The youngster giggled and said, "You used to watch us getting undressed and it made us all excited and we played better." Jason sat there for a minute or two, thinking. "You mean, ........?" The boy laughed again, "Of course. We were looking at your boner as well. Didn't you know?" "No," Jason replied, blushing. "I didn't." "Well, now that's sorted, does that mean you'll be back with us then?" Jason nodded and smiled weakly at the boy. They played much better that evening, and Jason was treated to a special show after the training, one which left both him and the boys in absolutely no doubt as to why. The next Friday one of the boys, who'd been playing badly all evening sidled up to Jason and sat next to him, watching the others play. "Don't know what's wrong tonight," he said to Jason. "I just don't seem to have the incentive." Jason looked at him and saw the weak smile he had. "Don't worry," he said, "We all have off-days." He rested a hand on the boy's knee as he tried to comfort him. The lad lifted his leg just the smallest amount and moved ever so slightly closer to Jason. "Perhaps I need a bit more incentive," he whispered, staring Jason in the face. Alarm bells rang in Jason's head. He didn't mean ..... He couldn't possibly want ....? "What sort of incentive?" Jason asked, his voice trembling slightly. "Well, you know, ..." he looking meaningfully at his groin where he displayed an erection, obvious even through his jock strap. Jason took the bull by the horns and taking his life in his hands said, "OK.. If you can win the next match, then I'll give you a reward." He won his match easily, his opponent startled by the amazing change in his performance. Grinning broadly, the lad ran across to Jason and sat next to him, glowing red with exertion and sweating profusely. "See, it works!" he giggled. "I won!" "Yeah, so I see," Jason said, wondering now just what he'd got himself into.. Getting changed afterwards, the boy took his time, making sure that Jason saw his semi-erect prick as often as he could. Eventually there were just three boys left, Jason, his protege and his friend. Just as Jason was wondering what would happen next, the two boys had a quick whispered conversation following which the intruder left, giving Jason a wide grin and wink as he closed the door behind him. "So?" the boy said looking at Jason. "Where's my reward?" Jason stood up and walked towards him, stopping a metre away. "You sure about this?" "Yeah," the lad grinned, "I worked for it, and you promised as well. So, we gonna?" Jason had never been in this situation before, in fact he'd never had sex with anyone before, except himself. Neither, he suspected, had the boy in front of him. "Done this before?" Jason whispered. The boy shook his head. "No. Never, but I've wanted to. What do we do first?" "Dunno." He took a step forwards and pressed his hand against the lad's swollen groin. "But it can't be difficult can it?" he grinned. They hurriedly stripped off, throwing what few clothes they were wearing onto the benches. They stood facing each other, as naked as they day they were born, sporting huge erections and grinning like Cheshire cats. Apprehensively they took the final step towards each other and reached down to their groins. Grasping each other's steel-hard boners, they gasped as they felt fingers other than their own tighten round their dripping cocks for the very first time. "That's nice," Jason said, starting to masturbate his friend. "Yeah," he sighed. Resting their foreheads together they stared down as they began to jerk each other off, taking time once in a while to look at each other and grin. "Yours's nice," the lad said quietly. "And big." "So's yours," Jason whispered. "Very nice." It was the first time for both of them, and despite the novelty and eroticness of the situation they managed to stave off their orgasms for a full five minutes before Jason gasped, "I'm cumming." "So'm I," the lad breathed out, "Quick." When they came, their joint spasms erupted seeming litres of hot, steaming jism all over their stomachs and legs, spurt after spurt after spurt jetting out to cover their young bodies as never before. Exhausted, they collapsed against each other, breathing heavily. "That was bloody fantastic!" the lad sighed, "Never cum like that before." "Me neither!" Jason agreed. "That was good," he sighed. "Yeah." Still grinning inanely at each other, they took a quick, tepid, shower and got dressed. The last thing Jason did before locking the doors behind him was to throw a bucket of water over the floor to hide the evidence of their fun. The following Friday, the same situation built up, but this time with the friend who was left out in the cold last week. Jason found it was just as good as before; better in fact because he knew what to expect and the lad seemed more experienced as well. As it turned out, quite a few of the team were already in an ad hoc jerk-off group, and they welcomed Jason into it. Those few boys who weren't a part of the group soon changed their minds when they realised they were outsiders, and as a result their tennis improved beyond recognition. 'SATURDAY'S CHILD WORKS HARD FOR A LIVING' Thomas had been climbing up and down the inside of the workhouse chimneys all morning, pulling a brush behind him and doing his best to sweep them clean. He was sure it was lunch-time by now, but no one had told him to come down yet, and he was sure he'd been forgotten about again. Still, he thought, it'd only be dry bread and water again so he wasn't missing much, but he was hungry all the same. It was 1887 and the upright, prudish Victorian English society was at its height. The Empire was doing well, the industrial revolution was well under way, and for those that had it, money could buy anything the heart desired. For those that had no money, life was precarious, and cheap. Tom's mother had been born in the workhouse, lived her short life in the workhouse and had died giving birth to Tom in the workhouse. Tom had never lived anywhere else and at the age of nine years old knew no life other than that bounded by the four high walls of the old red-brick institution. As the property of the Managers, he was there to do their bidding, whether it be chimney cleaning or working in the kitchens scrubbing pots and pans. He was getting a bit big for chimney cleaning now, several times he'd got himself stuck in one of the smaller chimneys and had had to claw his way out.. There were stories about boys who'd got stuck in them before and had stayed there for days until their bodies had been found and dragged out. This time he was lucky, he scrambled out of the chimney, shook the soot and dirt from his hair and sat on the ridge, looking at the green fields and forests away off in the distance with a heart-felt longing. There were only two routes of escape from the workhouse; death or being sold as a house-boy or servant to some rich family, or as a slave to a miserly shopkeeper. Thomas yearned to get away from the workhouse, one way or another. Even at his tender age he thought death might be preferable to what the future held for him. Sighing, he turned back to his job and started to descend another as yet unswept chimney. Saturday he was called to the Beadle's office during the morning. Boys were only summoned there in times of trouble, usually for punishment for breaking one of the myriad rules the home ran on. Mr. Hitchcock, the Beadle, was the man in charge: he had the power of life and death over all the inmates of the workhouse, and lived extremely well on the proceeds of their labours.. Not for him the dry bread or transparent broth the boys lived on, he had roast meat every day and his rotund body showed it. In trepidation, trying to work out what he'd done wrong this time, Thomas tapped on the door. "Come in, boy!" the resonant voice of the Beadle called out. Trembling, he entered the warm, well-furnished room. "Stand there," he was commanded as the manager pointed to a scrap of sacking on the floor. "I don't want your dirt dropping on my clean floor." Thomas did as he was told, clasping his hands together behind his back and looking at the floor in front of him. Nobody looked directly at Mr Hitchcock. "This's him, My Lord" Thomas heard the man say, "Thomas. He ain't got no last name. Mother's dead, never knew who his father was. All alone in the world he is, and we gotta pay for his upkeep. Nothing but a drain on the parish, that's what he is." Thomas lifted his eyes just enough to see who the Beadle was talking to. He was a tall, poshly- dressed man about twenty five years old, he guessed. The man was eyeing him up carefully. What he saw was a thin, pale-faced urchin clad in rags, bare-footed and grimy. Beneath that he also saw a fair-haired (probably), handsome youngster, under-sized for his age, but that was only to be expected. He took a step towards him and lifted the boy's chin up with his malacca cane and said, "Open!" "Mmmmm. Teeth all there, hands and feet complete." Turning to Mr Hitchcock, he added, "He'll do. Get him scrubbed and send him to my house today. "Two, I think we said?" The man handed two gold sovereigns to the Beadle, who slipped them into his pocket. Thomas was led out of the room by the Beadle's wife and taken to the pump in the courtyard where she stripped Thomas completely. He hadn't the time to feel embarrassed at his unaccustomed nudity before she set to with a will, scrubbing him vigorously with a stiff yard- brush, the icy cold water burning against the raw weals she was making on his white skin. An hour later and he was being led through the mean streets by the Beadle, kept close to him by the length of rope tied round his waist. They arrived at a big house, white-painted with an enormous black front door. The bell sounded in the distance and before long a black and white uniformed maid opened the door and stared at the strange couple before realising who they were. "Tradesman round the back," she barked at them and slammed the door. The Beadle was furious; he'd never been treated this way before, and in front of the urchin as well. Seething with anger he strode off, dragging a bemused Thomas behind him. By the time they reached the rear of the building, he'd calmed down a little, realising that unless he was careful he'd lose the two sovereigns he'd got for the boy. The downstairs maid opened the door, took Thomas by the hand and led him into the kitchen. She dismissed the Beadle with a curt nod of the head, who turned on his heels and left before they change their minds about the boy. Thomas stood in the middle of the floor, not having a clue why he was there or what was expected of him. He crossed his hands in front of him and stared at the floor. "Well, now," the maid said in a kindly voice. "What's your name?" Thomas looked up slightly and replied, "Thomas, miss." in a quiet voice. "Good. Now then, Thomas, we'd better get you cleaned up and into your new clothes before you get to meet his Lordship." Thomas, long accustomed to being told what to do without question, had a myriad of them going through his mind, but as usual said nothing. "Come on, then, come with me. They call me Helen," she said cheerfully. "Let's get you in the bath first." He was led through a maze of corridors until they entered a large, white tiled room. Thomas hadn't ever seen a bath before, and was just a little frightened as to what the big metal box thing was. He was even more confused when it was filled with hot water and he was told to get undressed. Trembling slightly he stripped, dropping his clothes where he stood. He looked expectantly at the maid; this was the second time he'd been naked in the same day, and in front of women too. Despite the lovely warmth of the room, he was covered in goose bumps and trembling. "Come on, get in," Helen said kindly, and took Thomas by the hand and helped him step into the tub. Taking a soft piece of cloth and some beautifully scented soap, she carefully washed Thomas from head to foot, singing to herself quietly as she did so. When she reached his groin, she picked up his genitals and delicately cleaned them. "How old are you?" she asked as she held Tomas's slowly hardening penis. "Nine, I think," he stumbled out as he watched his dick harden. It'd never done that before except sometimes at night when he was sleeping, and he was amazed at the sight. Not knowing any better, he wasn't even embarrassed about it, just very curious. "Nine!" Helen said, sounding surprised, "I'd've thought you were older!" Thomas looked down at himself again, his dick having expanded from its normal two inches up at an astounding four or more inches. It felt different too, sort of tingly and hot. "Yes, well," the maid said suddenly as if coming out of a trance and letting go of his dick, which, again to Thomas's surprise remained where it was, sticking straight out in front of him. Despite having had a wash earlier, Thomas stepped out of a bath of dirty grey water and onto a soft white towel which the maid used to dry him with, once again drying carefully around Thomas's groin, smiling to herself as she did so. A set of brand new clothes was then produced as if by magic and he was dressed in the finest material he'd ever seen. So much had happened to Thomas today that he'd give up trying to work out what was happening to him; not only had he left the workhouse for the first time ever, but he'd been brought to a new house, bathed, given a set of new clothes and was waiting to see what happened next. Whatever it was, it wasn't cleaning chimneys or washing pots and pans - not in these clothes. His worries were allayed somewhat when he was taken to what were obviously the living quarters of the family. In the Drawing Room he was introduced to Lord Stoke, the man he'd seen before at the workhouse. Once they were left alone, the man spoke softly and kindly to Thomas, explaining that he was to be his personal servant, to look after him in all ways and to take care of his rooms and so on. Thomas remained stoically silent, not knowing what to say, not even knowing if he was allowed to speak. He was shown around the room, the various cupboards and drawers opened and the contents displayed so he knew where things were kept: there was no chance he could remember all this at once, and he took on a slightly bemused look. The man, "Just call me 'Sir' " saw the look on Thomas and smiled. "Allright, that's enough for one day. Let me show you where you sleep." He opened a door Thomas hadn't noticed before in the corner of the room. Inside it was a smaller version of the room he'd just left, with its own cupboards, and a small bed. "This's where you'll sleep," he was told. "I'll leave you here now, I'm sure you're tired. Have a rest and I'll call upon you later." Thomas sat on the bed, completely confused. He slowly put things together and worked out that he was now owned by this man and it was his job to look after him. Quite what this meant, he hadn't a clue, but he was happy enough to take things as they came, grateful above all else that he seemed to have left the workhouse behind him, for ever. A week later, and Tomas had settled in to his new routine and was learning fast. It was an easy job, and for the first time he wasn't dirty and grimy all the time. The most shocking bit for him though was on the first night. He had to help undress then man and help him wash. It was hard at first because he was all fingers and thumbs, not knowing how shirts unbuttoned or clothes were hung, but he soon learned. Even the sight of the man, naked as Thomas had been, didn't worry him except that he seemed to have hair everywhere, in places Thomas never dreamed that hair could grow like under his arms, on his chest and between his legs! During that same week, Thomas had grown to love the man as he'd never loved anyone before. He was kind to him, spoke to him nicely and never beat him even when he made a mistake. Thomas saw something in his eyes too, which made him feel warm and comfortable inside. For the first time in his short life, he was as happy as he could have been and would do anything to repay him. The chance to pay him back came suddenly one night. The man had been out late and had come home slightly drunk, not badly, but enough to wobble about a little. Thomas got him undressed easily, but he decided to go to bed without any night clothes on. This was OK because that was how Thomas slept anyway, not having anything else to put on. When he was about to leave and go to his own room, he grasped Thomas by the hand lightly and said, "Stay here tonight, climb into bed with me." Thomas undressed and got into bed. He trusted the man with his life, and wasn't in the least bit afraid, in fact he was pleased he'd been asked to sleep with him because that way he could be there all night just in case he wanted anything. Somehow during the night, Thomas had curled up against his master and had his arms round his waist. When he half-woke in the early hours, he was shocked at himself and tried carefully to extricate himself without waking him up. "Where you going?" the man asked sleepily. "Nowhere, sir," Thomas said quietly. "Just getting my arm back." Lord Stoke turned and smiled at him. "Leave it there, I like that. You don't mind being here do you?" "No, Sir, not at all. It makes me feel good." "Excellent, Thomas. I hoped you'd say that. Shall I try to make you feel even better?" "I don't think you can, Sir, but you can try if you like." Lord Stoke pulled Thomas closer to him and slid his hand down between them, finally taking hold of Thomas's flaccid penis. It started to harden, and despite Thomas's doubts, he started to feel even better than he did before. He got butterflies in his tummy and a delicious tingly feeling spreading all through him, starting from his dick. "That's nice, Sir," Thomas whispered. "Thank you." "Whilst we're in bed like this," Lord Stoke whispered back, "You needn't call me 'Sir' so much, and don't need to keep saying 'thank you' and such all the time." "Than....... " Thomas started to say then changed his mind. "What shall I call you then?" "Call me Peter, but you mustn't ever let anyone hear you call me that, it would mean very serious trouble for us both. And in return I shall call you Tom. Is that all right?" "Yes, Peter." "May I kiss you?" Peter asked. "You are a very good-looking boy and I would like to kiss you if I might." Thomas smiled and nodded at him. It seemed he'd made his man very happy and if he wanted to kiss him, or anything else for that matter, he would be more than willing to oblige. They kissed each other for ages, the man fondling and playing with Thomas's dick and balls all the time. He even asked Tom to play with his as well. Tom knew that this would make the man just as happy as he was and so was more than willing to do as he was asked. It wasn't long before Tom's funny feelings got stronger and stronger and soon he was moaning and writhing about the bed as he was being played with. Then he went all stiff, lifted his bum off the bed and started to gasp loudly, his dick getting even stiffer and hotter. When he calmed down after what seemed like ages, he looked at Peter questioningly. "What happened?" he asked. Peter explained a lot to him over the next hour or so, teaching him things he hadn't dreamed of. He even showed Tom how to rub his dick up and down so's he could do it to himself whenever he wanted, and more than that, allowed him to rub Peter's dick until he made him cum. Tom thought that was the best thing ever, it made his master really happy and they kissed for ages afterwards. In the morning when they woke up, Peter gave him a little kiss and asked if Thomas was alright. When he said he was, he smiled and said that from now on he would always sleep in his bed with him, but that it was to be their little secret and nobody else must ever find out. Thomas saw nothing wrong with this and said that he would be glad to do so if it made him happy. Over the next few weeks, Thomas and Peter had a wonderful time together, doing all sorts of things which pleased them both. It was especially nice when Peter taught him how to put his dick in his mouth and lick it and suck it until he came. Peter would even do the same to him even though he couldn't come yet, he didn't seem to mind though. He learned the best thing ever late one night, even better that sucking or being sucked. Peter had been out drinking with his friends again and had stayed out late. Tom had got tired and climbed into bed to wait for him, but he'd fallen asleep and had only woken when he felt his master climb in beside him. Thomas almost cried because he'd let his master down so badly and didn't calm down until Peter hugged him tightly and said that it didn't matter. To try and maker up for being asleep, Tom dived under the bedclothes and licked Peter's dick up and down until it was hard. He waited until he could hear him moaning and sighing before he put it in his mouth and started to suck it, lovingly and tenderly. "Wait, Tom," Peter said from somewhere above him, "I want to try something new. Would you like that?" Tom poked his grinning head out from under the bedclothes and nodded. Whatever it was, it must be good and if it was good, then he wanted to try it. "It might hurt a little, but not very much and not for long, and afterwards you'll like it a great deal," Peter informed him. Tom was used to pain, he'd born more of it than the man ever knew, and if he could please Peter by suffering a little, then he would do it gladly. Peter lay Tom on top of him so their dicks were laying almost side-by-side and kissed him deeply and lovingly. After a while they were both as hard as they could be and Peter was leaking out his pre-cumming. "Sit up here, on my chest for a minute, Tom," Peter whispered. "Let me show you something." Tom liked sitting on his chest, usually he put his dick in Peter's mouth and played with his dick and balls behind his back, but this time it was different. Peter spread his pre-cumming all round Tom's back passage, even pressing his finger in slightly to cover it properly. Tom guessed what he was going to do next, and smiled to himself. He'd thought about this before, but never dreamed that Peter would do it to him. When they were both wet and slippery with the stuff, Peter held his dick up and made Tom sort of sit on it, just resting his bum hole on top of it. "Ready?" Peter asked gently. "Yes," Tom nodded, resting his hands on Peter's waist for support. Tom eased himself down onto Peter's iron-hard dick, wincing slightly as it pressed against the resisting muscle. "Go slowly," Peter urged. "Take your time." Determinedly, Tom tried again. Prepared for the pain this time, he relaxed as much as he could and suddenly felt Peter's dick slip inside his bum. There was an instant's agonizing pain which went just as fast as it came, and Tom grinned broadly at Peter. "Got it. It's in!" he sighed. "I know," said Peter, looking at Tom with a new interest. 'This boy is really something else!' he sighed to himself. Out loud he said, "It feels wonderful." "Yes, better than anything," Tom agreed wholeheartedly. "Now," Tom was told, "Move yourself up and down a bit and tell me what it feels like." He lifted up slightly and felt Peter's massive cock slide out a little, amazed that he could feel it so well. "It feels fantastic!" he said, gasping, "I can feel everything; it's filling all my inside." "Good. Now go up and down a bit more, but not too fast." Tom changed his grip an held fast onto Peter's wrists as he raised and lowered himself, sensing the red-hot dick stretching his bum in the most delightful way. He close his eyes and savoured the new sensation, his own little dick sticking straight out in front of him, throbbing in time with his movement. "It's really, really nice," he whispered. "Mmmmmm," Peter responded, lost in his own world. Automatically, Tom clenched his bum cheeks as he continued to enjoy himself, making sure he slid all the way up and all the way down each time he moved. Biting him bottom lip in ecstasy, he moaned as he satisfied both himself and his master. Peter, realising that Tom was a natural at this, let go of one of Tom's hand and began to fondle the irresistible four-inch projectile tantalisingly in front of him. Tom opened his eyes, grinned widely at Peter and returned to his own world of delight. Seconds later Tom's body froze as he suddenly orgasmed, forcing his bum cheeks even tighter together and causing Peter to groan loudly. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, Tom's orgasm passed, leaving him even more determined to give as much delight as he could. Twice more his little body was wracked with the most intense orgasms of his life before Peter, grabbing Tom round the waist, forced him down for the last time as he jetted his red-hot seed inside his young servant. He'd had young boy servants before of course, too many to remember, but none had been as good as this one, he thought to himself. Not only was he pure, innocent and virginal when he arrived, but within just a few short weeks he'd superceded all his predecessors in his skills. He also enjoyed it enormously which added to Peter's pleasures immeasurably. Lord Stokes was seen less and less on the London social scene as time went by, his friends most curious as to why he seemed to spend so much time indoors. It was only a very few very close friends who knew the reason. Tom was seemingly insatiable in his nightly passions, so much so that he even wore Peter out eventually, he just couldn't cope with his all-night demands for satisfaction day after day. It was with some relief therefore that he was delighted Tom accepted his invitation to be 'loaned out' to a friend for a night or two. The added bonus was that Peter got the chance to have a different boy in his bed, none of whom were as satisfying as Tom, but were fun nevertheless, and most certainly less exhausting. A year after Tom's arrival, they'd even got as far as having a monthly soiree, with two or three of Lord Stoke's acquaintances spending the night in the house, together with their own boy servants of course. The boys, all being young, healthy and virile, spent almost as much time playing among themselves, naked, and displaying their multifarious talents for their masters as they did pleasuring them in bed. Tom worked hard, very hard, to please his master and his friends and hoped with all his heart that it would go on for ever. 'SUNDAY'S CHILD .......' 'And the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay. Sunday was Steven's 'Special Day'; it was the one whole day of the week he spent with his father. His parents had separated quite amicably some eight years ago and Stephen had spent many holidays and almost every Sunday with him. Life with his mother was OK, but she didn't really understand him any more, especially now he was 14 years old and needed the company of his father more than that of his mother. This was especially true in one particular respect; his parents had separated because of his father's preference for the company of other men over that of his wife, and it wasn't only their friendship he needed. Many men have affairs within their marriage, but Steven's dad had 'liaisons' with a variety of men, none of which lasted long but they were a source of stress within his marriage. His wife never knew about them but she suspected, and ignored them for the sake of Stephen until he was old enough to understand his parents were having difficulties, even if he didn't know the cause. He began to understand his father's 'other side' from about the age of 13 when he became aware of his own sexual development. He too was predisposed to the company of other males rather than that of girls, and being younger was unafraid of showing it, or to put it properly, didn't know he was showing it. Stephen's father too saw a lot of himself in Stephen, and empathised with him. The boy was never as happy when he was alone with his father in his house and could sit on his knee and hold him, even at the age of 14. He felt warm and safe and loved when his father had his arms around him and they just hugged each other and sat for hours in comfortable silence. Stephen also knew his mother would never understand this need in him and so took pains never to let her know how he felt or what they did. Both men knew also that they both got erections when they were cuddled up together, grinning at one another as they grew and made their presence felt. Stephen's father had never taken advantage of his son other than resting an open hand on his boner when he was hard and gently fondling it outside his trousers. This made Stephen even happier and he longed to do the same to his father but never quite had the courage until one special Sunday just after his 13th birthday. They'd always kissed each other when Stephen arrived at the house, lips to lips, embracing. On this special Sunday his father had bought him his birthday present, a new bicycle. In his excitement he'd hugged his father tightly and kissed him again, and in his ecstasy had found his tongue in his father's mouth. They were both surprised at this, but after a moments look into each other's eyes had done it again, this time more tenderly and passionately, amazed at the feelings they both had. When they nestled down on the sofa together, Stephen on his father's knee as usual, he already had a major boner, matching that of his son. They looked at each other as they had just before when they kissed, knowing what each was thinking. Stephen, for the first time placed his open palm on his father's erection and pressed gently, sighing as his father moaned quietly. They kissed softly, fondling each other as they did so. Stephen knew his father wouldn't go any further than this unless he was somehow invited and so he slid his trouser zip down and slid his father's hand inside it. He felt his fingers searching for his prick and sighed deeply as he found it, giving his dad a quick smile and a kiss. Experimentally he started to slide his father's zip down, waiting anxiously to see if he tried to stop him. He didn't. Sitting as he was on his father's knee, he couldn't manage to get it down far enough to get his hand completely inside and looked at him, his eyes saying everything he couldn't put into words. Still in silence, Stephen's father pushed his son off his knee and stood up.. He put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to his bedroom; Stephen allowed himself to be led, putting a loving arm round his father's waist as they closed the door behind them. Slowly they undressed each other until they were completely naked, each taking careful stock of the other as they revealed more and more of the body they so badly wanted to caress, to fondle and to make love to. They moved to the bed and lay alongside each other, smiling gently and running fingers through hair, along cheeks and round lips. They kissed deeply, tongues dancing round and hugging passionately. Stephen broke the embrace and took hold of his father's eight-inch erection, examining it closely. Circumcised, just as he was, it nestled in a bush of brown curly hair, and looked magnificent, drops of glistening pre-cum highlighting its beauty. Stephen moaned as he gently stroked it. He was only dimly aware of his father gripping his own red-hot throbbing boner, similarly leaking fluid from its four and a half inches. He had no real hair to show off yet, just a small fringe of straight blond new growth at the base of his dick which only seemed to heighten his youthfulness and innocence. Slowly and with infinite care they started to masturbate each other, no longer just father and son, they were lovers; new, discovering lovers, deliriously happy together. They climaxed together, still silent but ejaculating with a vigour and intensity neither had experienced for a very long time. Neither cared about the mess they'd made, neither cared about anything at all in fact, they only thing that mattered was that they'd demonstrated their deep and abiding love for each other in the only way they knew how. They kissed once more, knowing that their relationship had changed for ever, changed to one which they both knew they were destined for, one which no one in the world would understand except for themselves. It was as if a door had been unlocked, each understanding that their genes had won out, father and son sharing a bond which was as unique as it was unbreakable. It wasn't long before Stephen was using his new bicycle to visit his father on a daily basis on the way home from school. His mother was delighted to see her ex-husband and son getting on so well and was more than happy to let him visit whenever he wanted. In fact, she secretly wished he would go and live there permanently as they seemed to have lost all their ability to communicate - as because of his age he obviously needed his father's attention more than hers. Stephen's father had dropped his occasional cruising round town now that he had his son to take care of his needs, and concentrated on making him as happy as he could. His daily visits were the highlight of his life, their characters and natures being a perfect match for each other. Life took an even better turn when they became lovers in the true sense of the word and took care of each other in every possible way. Stephen moved in on his 15th birthday, much to the delight of all concerned, including his mother. They continued to live their daily lives very much as before, but Sundays remained their special day when they showed and demonstrated their love for each other in the best possible way. The End.